The Book and its Grudges

“You know, I don’t really need a history lesson today,” John said. “If we can go ahead and just-”

“The Dammaz Kron,” Gurrak said, ignoring John as he began to wistfully speak of his people. “The Great Book of Grudges. Ever since the dawi first emerged from our rocky womb, we have recorded all of our history. And for all those who have wronged us, we have recorded it within the pages of The Book. But not all dawi are graced with the privilege of touching its parchment, let alone recording their own grudges within it. So for each karak, there is a book. For each guild, there is a book. For each clan, there is a book. For each family, there is a book. And for each dawi, there is a personal book.”

“What’s a karak?” John asked.

“A dwarven hold. We have several across the world as well as hidden away within illusion barriers,” Gurrak explained. “Now, to be the etcher of the grudges of your kin is a great honor. Even more so if your clan, guild, or gods willing, your karak asks you to etch the wrongs that have befallen all into the book. You can only imagine the joy I felt in my beard when I was asked to be the writer for the book, to have the honor of remembering all those who have ever wronged us and ensure their crimes were never to be forgotten.

“I can recall hundreds of names that I added to the book of Karak Bryhold. Urks who ambushed our crafters, umgi who cheated us out of wealth, elgi who thought themselves above us and treated us unfairly, dirty raki who burrowed their way into our tunnels and holds and slaughtered our kin. Every name written down and never forgotten. We would have our **** someday. Be it in a day or a thousand days from now, we would never forget and never forgive.”

“Wait, what are the urks? Or umgi? Or elgi or raki?” John asked. Naoto, meanwhile, was standing off to the side with a knowing smile. Like she had received this whole speech before.

“They are the dawi’s names for the races that have plagued our kin. You know them as orcs, humans, elves, and skaven.” At that last one, Gurrak spat off to the side, as if the very name of the skaven filled him with bile.

“Now, it was my job to remember the wrongs that befell Karak Bryhold. And until I draw my last breath, until the light has gone from my eyes and the axe drops from my grip, Karak Bryhold is not yet dead. And so I shall have my vengeance. I will raze the lands of the mindless urks who raided us non-stop for several months. I shall snap the spines of the traitorous umgi who did not offer us aid when we called upon them for help. I shall rip the ears off the loathesome elgi who allowed the raki to sneak through their lands to ours. I shall bury my axe in the head of the thrice-damned rakis who devastated my clan.

And with Grimnir as my witness, I shall rip the head of Quet Mourntail from his shoulders, and place it on a pike above the graves of my brothers and sisters. They will know their spirits have been avenged as the rat’s blood feeds them in their graves. Only then will I finally rest. Only then will my axe find its sheath.”

“And until that day comes, we still have work to do, Uncle. So can we stop swearing vengeance for five minutes and fix this damned car?”

Gurrak sighed as he turned away from John and Naoto to look at… was that a goblin?

“I was just explaining to the umgis”

“Humans, uncle. Humans. Calling them umgis makes it sound like a racial slur.”

“It’s my dwarven language, lass! You should do well to respect it-“

“Well maybe if I wasn’t listed as a “urk” in the language, I might. Now help me with the car. Mr. Johnson is coming by in half an hour and I still gotta take a look at the catalytic converter.”

“Well, technically you’re a grubbi…” Gurrak said, although John was tuning him out as he looked at the new arrival. Yeah, John’s eyes were not deceiving him, that was a goblin. She was somewhere between three and a half and four feet tall with light green skin, almost like that of spring leaves fresh in April. She had large pale blue eyes that looked at her uncle with a mixture of annoyance and amusement, with a smirk that matched her gaze. Her hair was a purplish maroon color that stopped at about her chin with most of it hidden by a large leather hat and goggles. She had a couple of piercings in her large pointed ears and a tattoo of… something on her right biceps. It looked like claw marks or tribal markings, but John couldn’t be quite sure.

Speaking of her biceps, good lord was this woman ripped. Now John knew some pretty strong women. Moira, for example, ran around in metal plate armor and wielded a warhammer like it was a wooden stick. Talia, while not muscular, was still strong enough to spear a boar in one strike, and Mavis’ strength was technically infinite so… no real contest there. But this goblin looked like she lived a life of hard labor, with strong arms and a six pack that showed on the part of her midriff that was exposed, to the fact that she carried herself with the pride of “Yeah, I know I can kick your ass. What of it?”

Clothing wise she was clad in a white sleeveless shirt that gave off a delicious amount of side boob, but that was also because she seemed to have some rather large breasts for someone of her stature. The shirt stopped a little bit below her breasts, leaving a decent amount of midriff before you got to her heavy duty belt with tool pouches and various bits of equipment sticking out of it. She had on some dark red sort of pants that looked… Well, John couldn’t really tell what they were. Maybe they were dwarven in style. All of this came to an end on her large leather boots covered in grease and oil, fitting as she had just walked out of the main garage that John had seen while walking in.

The goblin in question looked over to John, raised an eyebrow of confusion, and then got the biggest grin on her face as she noticed Naoto standing right next to John. She dropped the large wrench that she had been holding in her hand, and before it even had time to clatter on the ground, the goblin had her arms around Naoto and was practically lifting her off the ground.

“OH MY GOD, NAOTO! When did you get back into town! What the fuck, why didn’t you tell me you were coming by, I would have made sure my uncle didn’t bore you with the same longwinded old man tales, and who’s the cute guy, never mind, OH MY GOD, I have so much to talk to you about and-“

“Slow down, Rilree! I sent you a text when I got back into town, but you never answered,” Naoto said with a smile. Rilree, the goblin, just offered a shrug as she put down her friend.

“Accidentally broke the phone while working on a new weapon system for the Doom Wagon. It’s cool, though, Thelgron is working on getting me a new one that can also transform to get away from wild shots that I happen to accidentally fire from a 40mm cannon round.”

“Smart plan,” Naoto said before looking back up at John. “Oh, I’m sorry. Rilree, this is John Newman. He’s helping me on a case. John, this is Rilree Gurraksdo-“

“Actually, I earned a new name recently. Call me Rilree Greenforge.”

“Oh, congratulations,” Naoto said with a smile. “Was it the improvement on the thunderers?”

“No, those I’m still waiting to hear the council’s decision on,” Rilree said, crossing her arms. “But they did accept my improvements to the underway seals, so that mixed with the magic from the enchanters will keep the skaven from getting anywhere close to the clan’s hold. Hence why they gave me a title.”

“And they called you green cause you’re… new I assume?” John asked, trying to not sound racist by thinking the name was more on the obvious side.

Rilree gave him a deadpan look. “No. They called me green because dwarves are racist as fuck. And cause they hate all greenskins with a burning passion. It’s only cause my uncle is the last survivor of Clan Bryhold that they even let me stay alive and continue to do my forging. Otherwise I would have probably died the second I showed up.”

“Oh,” John said, averting his gaze. “I… I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

Rilree shrugged. “Eh, nothing to really be sorry about. At least on your end. You didn’t make the Dawi racist and you haven’t been racist to me. So you didn’t do a thing wrong. Plus, I get to work in a forge and be a mechanic with my uncle. I can handle a bit of snide remarks every now and then from a dwarf who doesn’t know my skill with a wrench and hammer.”

“And what skills ya do have, lass,” Gurrak said, chiming in with a smile. “I swear, if it weren’t out of respect for my brother and his wife, ancestors protect their souls, I would have adopted you as my own kin when I saw what you could do with a bit of metal and time in th’ forge. This lass is a certified genius!” He laughed and gave his niece a hearty clap on the back, causing her to stumble but give a slightly shy smile.

“C’mon, Uncle. Stop that shit,” she said, rolling her shoulders a bit. “You’ve got at least a couple hundred years on me in the forge, not to mention the fact that you’ve got that dawi eye for detail.”

“Aye, but your tenacity and sheer innovative ideas make you just as good as any dawi inventor, and certainly worthy of ya name,” Gurrak said, though John noticed that Rilree deflated a bit at this accidentally racist praise. “But that’s besides th’ point. What are ya two doin’ here?”

“Yeah. I love it when you visit, Naoto, don’t get me wrong. But you usually don’t bring partners on cases along unless it’s for business.” Rilree crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “So what case do you need my help with?”

Naoto looked to John, to Rilree, then Gurrak before sighing a bit. “It’s… well it’s a really big case. I didn’t come here for info… rather, I… um… well, see I”

“Spit it out, lass!’ Gurrak yelled.

Naoto sighed again. “I need to borrow the Doom Wagon.”

Both Gurrak and Rilree were dead silent, Rilree seemingly shocked and Gurrak just offering a raised eyebrow. He then threw his hands into the air and walked towards the back garage. “I’ll let ye sort this one out, Rilree. Tha’ wagon of yours ain’t got nuthin ta do with me.”

Rilree cocked her head, her mouth open in surprise. “The… Doom Wagon? You are asking to borrow my baby? My darling creation? My most perfect little machine of **** and doom?”

“Look, if I thought there was another way-“

“Why?” Rilree asked, cutting her off.

“W-Why?” Naoto asked

“Yes, Naoto. Why? Why do you need the Doom Wagon?”

“Well… John and I are after a hard criminal, and he’s left us some clues in regards to a few of his holdouts and-“

“So use the portals,” Rilree said. “And get a rental once you use the portal. No need to bring my Doom Wagon into things.”

“Well, he’s got people watching the portals and the people we are working with aren’t exactly conspicuous…”

“Aren’t exactly… Oh god. Fucking hell, Naoto.” Rilree slapped her face, groaning as she leaned up against the counter. “You’re working with THEM again?”

“Look, the Order has some problems and are sanctimonious assholes at times, but they have the right-“

“They don’t have ANYTHING that should be worth your time, Naoto!” Rilree shouted. “They treat anyone who isn’t in their order like garbage, and are even worse if the person is non-human! You and I both know what dicks they were to both my uncle's people and my own.”

“Look, they were bad but Moira is-“

“Moira is just one person!” Rilree yelled. “Sure, she was really nice to me when we dealt with the hellbent chop shop. But she was the ONLY one, and even if she’s the fucking Warden, she can’t exactly un-racist a bunch of jackasses!”

“But we have to deal with Lifthrasir and The Scarlet Hand somehow!” Naoto shouted back. “And working with the Order is the fastest and best way of dealing with them! I am trying to make this world safer, and if I have to work with assholes while doing so, I will do that! All if it means helping people like you and your uncle-“

“Yeah? And what happens when they run out of criminals to purge? Do they move onto heretics next? Non-humans? Sexual deviants?”

John and Naoto both looked at each other and blushed a slight bit as memories of **** induced sex ran through their minds. Rilree looked at the two of them and slapped her face again.

“Ugh, I should have guessed. You aren’t partners. You’re just sleeping together. God, Naoto, what the fuck?”

Naoto sighed and dropped to one knee, now eye level with Rilree. “Look, Ril. I love you. You’re basically a sister to me. And I hate that the Order treats you harshly and I will do anything I can to stop them. But we need the Doom Wagon. It’s the only way that we can get all of us across the US while hunting down this criminal and keep us all safe.”

Rilree looked to her, up to John, and then back to Naoto before sighing. “I can’t resist those big puppy dog eyes of yours,” she said with a small grumble before crossing her arms over her ample chest. “Fine. But you gotta answer me some questions first.”

“Of course.”

She held up a single finger. “First, where are you all going?”

“We don’t know all of the locations yet. Moira is negotiating with her father to have some demands met that will get us the locations.”

“Damn,” Rilree muttered before holding up a second finger. “Alright, second. Who is going on this little road trip?”

“John here, an elf swordswoman named Talia, an einherjar, John’s magic sword lady named Mavis-“

“Wait, Mavis? The Sword of Souls Mavis?”

“Yea… How do you know about my sword?” John asked, finally chiming into the conversation.

Rilree looked up to him with a smug grin. “You might as well ask me how I know about Mjolnir or Gullinbursti or Skidbladnir. The dawi made those things for the gods, just like how they made Mavis for heroes. I’m just surprised that you’re the bearer of the sword this time around.” She looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you’re cute, sure, and have a bit of a nerdy thing with those glasses, but not exactly much of a “hero of legend” in my opinion.”

John was about to speak up about what made him special, but the conversation that he had had with Naoto outside of the garage made him hold his tongue. Maybe Rilree could be trusted. Maybe. But he needed to double check with Naoto, especially since he just made the promise to not talk about his whole rune thing only a few minutes ago. It would be pretty shitty if he broke that promise now.

“Well, maybe I have a few more surprises that you don’t know about?” John asked with a smirk, to which Rilree just raised an eyebrow.

She then looked him up and down one more time before saying with a deadpan tone, “Having a big dick doesn’t make you a hero of legend.”

“THAT WASN’T WHAT I WAS-“

“Alright, continue with the list,” she said, cutting John off while Naoto tried to hide her laughter. After a few moments, Naoto continued to speak.

“Right. We’ve also got Moira-“

“Good bitch.”

“And possibly a couple of Order knights that Moira trusts.”

“… Less good bitches,” Rilree remarked before holding up a third finger. “Wait, you didn’t say yourself. Are you not going?”

“I don’t know yet. I might have to stay here with the department,” Naoto explained. “I have other active cases, and we are still cleaning up some of the fallout from The Scarlet Hand base getting raided.”

“Alright. Next question. Does anyone on your team know their way around mechanics?”

“No one like you,” Naoto said with a smile, and John swore she could see a small blush on her cheeks.

‘Were they once an item or something? Or am I just misreading the vibes?’ John thought to himself.

“Thought so,” Rilree said with a smile. “In that case… My conditions for taking the Doom Wagon. First off, none of the Order assholes drive without someone supervising in the passenger seat.”

“Don’t want them breaking your baby?” John asked with a smile.

“They tend to get a bit leadfoot whenever they see a heretic,” Rilree said with a grumble. “Second, you tell me why John is a hero of legend. Or at least worthy of a sword for heroes of legend.”

“I…” Naoto looked up at John and then to the door where Rilree’s uncle had exited through. “… Later. When we are away from prying ears.”

“Fair enough. And third, make sure that you don’t leave until I finish packing.”

“Packing?” John asked.

“Of course. What, did you think you would get to drive my baby across the US without me?”